Absolutely, Altogether, Completely,

Quite Thoroughly, and Totally Dependent

Christmas Eve 2007

            Tonight the wait is over.  Everything is in place.  We know the carols… the scripture readings… the whole story by heart.    Tonight is the night of mystery and wonder.  Tonight we listen for angels and follow a star.  Tonight we join the crowd that is gathering at the manger.  It is the night when even the most skeptical among us choose to believe that in this moment, God is born among us and everything is possible.  Tonight is the night when we celebrate the birth of Jesus… this wonderful, holy child.

            Hearing the story from Luke’s Gospel again this Christmas Eve, I am taken by the fact that Luke really tries to depict the birth of Jesus as an unsentimental, mundane, and earthly event.  Our traditions have made it more grand.  Our candlelight and carols are far removed from that stable in Bethlehem. The pageantry of our celebrations has given an almost otherworldly effect to Christmas. 

But according to Luke’s story, being born in a cow stable was a most earthly occurrence.  There is little that is sweet and sentimental and certainly nothing angelic about the smell of manure.  There is little that is grand about being forced to give birth on a bed of straw in a borrowed stable surrounded by the stuff of real life.  Luke’s story of the first Christmas is not an accident.  He left nothing to chance when speaking of Jesus’ birth.  Luke wanted us to know that God is born among us, coming into the mess and muddle of real life.  In this real live baby, God comes.

            I read recently of a well-known historian, famous for his disbelief when it comes to anything having to do with the Christian faith, who was persuaded to attend a Christmas Eve service with his family.  After the service was over, he is reported to have said to the preacher, “I’ve finally worked it out… why people like Christmas!”  The preacher responded, “Really?” and then the man said this, “A baby threatens no one, so the whole thing is a happy event that means nothing at all!”*

            In one way, this skeptic is right – a baby threatens no one – well, except maybe for that part about changing your life.  That real live, sweet little baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, sleeping peacefully in a manger woke up the next morning and was absolutely, altogether, completely, quite thoroughly, and totally dependent on his parents.  Mary and Joseph were young and inexperienced.  Jesus was their firstborn and they probably had not attended parenting classes before they left for Bethlehem.   None of this mattered though, because the next morning when he woke up he was absolutely, altogether, completely, quite thoroughly, and totally dependent on them and ready or not, they had to give their lives to him. 

That’s what parents do.  A real, live, newborn baby is absolutely, altogether, completely, quite thoroughly, and totally dependent for everything that sustains life..  A real, live, newborn baby must be held gently and carefully… his head supported by strong hands.  A real, live, newborn baby must be fed… her cries heard in the night.  A real, live, newborn baby must be loved and protected… cherished beyond measure.  As parents, we are expected to give our lives.

As people of faith, we too, are expected to give our lives. The real, live, newly born, sweet baby Jesus is still absolutely, altogether, completely, quite thoroughly, and totally dependent.  This much hasn’t changed.  He is dependent on us.  And this whole happy event won’t mean anything unless we understand this.  God comes again to be with us in Jesus Christ.  God comes to bring this love… this joy… this hope… this challenge to powers that be… right into the mess and muddle of our very real lives.  And God is dependent on us to create a new world.  It can’t happen… it won’t happen unless we get it… unless we understand that this sweet little baby is dependent on us to take him into our hearts and bring him to life in our world through everything we say and all that we do.  It isn’t enough to listen for the angels and follow the star and gather with the crowd at the manger tonight and then leave without being changed by the experience. 

            There is a rural legend about a Christmas pageant in a small midwestern town that is making the rounds.  Wally is a child who has always been a bit “behind” everyone else in his intellectual and social development.  He is liked, but he has been the one who sits on the sidelines of lots of activities.  One year, for the Sunday School Christmas pageant, Wally very much wanted to play the part of a shepherd but his teacher felt that he couldn’t handle the role.  Instead he was given the part of the innkeeper because he would only have to say three words… “There’s no room.”   According to the legend, the rehearsals went fine.  Wally said his one line at just the right time.  But on the big night, as parents and congregational members enjoyed the children’s performance, there was a big surprise.  When Mary and Joseph stopped at the innkeeper’s door, Wally said his line perfectly.  Three times Joseph asked for a place to stay and three times Wally said, “There’s no room.”  But, as Mary and Joseph began walking away, Wally stood frozen in the spotlight.  He didn’t shut the door of the inn as he had practiced.  Instead, watching Mary and Joseph walk away, Wally was overcome with emotion.  And right there, in front of God and everybody, Wally shouted, “Wait!  You can have my room!”**

            In his own big way, Wally understood that for the birth of this sweet, little real, live, holy baby… this birth we celebrate again tonight… for this to be more than a happy event that means nothing at all… we must share our rooms.

*From Matthew for Everyone by Tom Wright, pages 13-14.

**From “LectionAid” – Volume 16, Number 1, page 17.

***From “No Obvious Angels” by Shirley Erena Murray